All good things come to an end

May 30, 2003

It was finally time to go home, and we all agreed it sucked - and badly.  For Garrett and Bill, home meant ~600 miles back to Austin.  I on the other hand had that trip plus another 1100 miles to get me back to Tampa.  We left Study Butte fairly early and had decided to have breakfast in Alpine.  As a note, about 10 minutes east of Alpine is a little 24 hour diner that serves good food at decent prices, in a setting that is a combination of 'polar ice cap' cold and "1955 Americana". 

We took

A quick note for everyone's amusement.  I had been wearing my BMW heated vest almost non-stop through this trip.  In Big Bend and surrounding areas this wasn't a problem as the temperature was cool, though not cold.  By the time we got to Junction, TX, though it had gone from cool to 'damn hot' and I was soaked inside this vest.  The upshot is that during this entire trip I never suffered the switches from hot to cold that wear me out so badly.  The down side is that I looked like an idiot and was sweating so profusely that the front and back of my pants were practically soaked.  Still, I did not take the vest off until we reached Llano for lunch, by which time I had lost probably 2 gallons of water through perspiration - much of which was now in my pants (and possibly boots).  When I returned home, the BMW vest couldn't take it any longer and took itself for a shower - the civilization of bacteria driven to this act of suicide by no longer being able to stand their  own stench.

Another quick little story - called 'Fat Man and Hummer H2.'  On I-10 Garrett and Bill rode fairly close to the speed limit, I would blast off for a few minutes, and then wait for them to catch up.  Sometimes I would just ride along with them to stay in the group - but I-10 is LOOOOONG and boring.  Anyhoo, I am riding with Bill and Garrett, really just toodling along when a Hummer H2 BLASTS by us doing about 100.  In addition to blasting by, he was unacceptably close to our lane, practically riding the line.  That was completely, inexcusably, rude.  When you are on a bike and a 4 ton yuppie mobile blaring "In the Navy" blasts by you it damn near knocks you off your bike.  It is the highway equivalent of a 325lb linebacker sprinting through a crowded mall and then wondering why everyone is angry.  I was pissed, and thought 'hey, what a great time to express myself.'  To express myself I first caught up to the H2 (about 2 seconds at 2/3 throttle in 5th gear) and then cut him off at about 110mph.  I am certain he completely lost sight of me as I swerved in front of his 'I am not gay, I am not gay, I am not gay' 4,000 lb monstrosity.  I am also certain that I pissed him off at least as badly as he pissed me off.

He then tried to catch me, and a couple of times I slowed down enough just to let him get close, at which point I would stomp it and watch his big, yellow, pseudo-homo-erotic / about as manly as the "leatherman from the Village People" beast disappear in my mirror.  Slow down, blast off, slow down . . .maybe he can catch up . . maybe, no, not a F*kn chance . . .

I pulled over at Junction for gas and to let the group catch up.  Five, maybe 10 minutes later (I had gassed up and bought myself a bottle of water) the H2 rolls up, sees me, then tears off to the other side of the freeway to gas up his "Taliban Fundraiser" since he just went through 30 gallons of gas trying to catch me. 

A few minutes later Bill rolled up and headed to a different gas station.  I followed him over there and lo and behold, stepping out of the H2 was the most obviously obese man wearing golf shorts and a polo shirt.  Nice, really nice.  This fat bastard can't see his own dick, and instead of getting his lard ass in shape he buys a 'wannabe Hummer' to overcompensate.  I was feeling salty enough to quietly wish he would come over and say anything, just anything at all.

We took 377 to 29 and then stopped and ate in Llano.  377 was where the Rabbit of Death made his appearance / demise.  Garrett and Bill saluted the now-picked-bone-dry carcass of said rabbit as they rode by.  I was ahead of them and had slowed enough to see what was left of his little corpse.  Mostly he looked like 'rabbit jerky', bones, and fur. 

We stopped in Llano, ate and took our last pictures to mark the end of the trip.  I had thought about it and come to the conclusion that Bill's place would probably be quieter and allow me more sleep than Garrett's.  Bill was ok with it, so I decided to stay at his place and crash out before leaving for Florida on the next morning.  I was sad to say goodbye to Garrett and he was sad too.  He told me later that when he got home he partied with his buddies until some god awful time the next morning, so clearly I made the right call.

 

Here is the last shot of Garrett - notice the head?  We all were wiped out when we stopped at Llano.  I peeled off my heated vest, Bill crawled out of his road wear, Garrett scraped his helmet off of his seared head and then we ate.  We gassed up, had our goodbye hugs (we were all a little teary-eyed, so instead of letting ourselves cry we beat up a total stranger) and went our separate ways. 

 

 

When we got to Bill's house I called Garrett to make sure he was ok, then showered, cleaned the bike and we went out to eat (though not all in that order).  I had a solid nights sleep in a very quiet home then got up and headed back to Tampa the next morning.

 

 

 

The exciting finale

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